


exulansis

by loupettes



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27670562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupettes/pseuds/loupettes
Summary: Some nights, her dreams would start to warp darker and she’d wake in a sense of dread herself, only to find him nuzzling into her in his sleep, shivering in what she could only assume was absolutefear.Ten x Rose, angst. Rose comforts the Doctor after a nightmare. Rated T for the occasional swear.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 16
Kudos: 61





	exulansis

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue prompt: "You've thought about this, haven't you?"

She stirred, her arm flapping lazily to the space besides her and she registered he wasn’t there. She squinted, instantly feeling disorientated in the unfamiliar surroundings and having a small moment of panic, before she gained focus on the figure sitting on the side of the small bed they’d been offered by a friendly local b&b owner. She suspected he’d had a nightmare, and although he hadn’t had one in a while and she presumed tonight’s was down to being in a different bed, she knew well enough by now that the Doctor was not eager to be comforted in the aftermath of one. 

She’d tried in the beginning, but she quickly realised she wasn’t well versed in comforting a 900-year-old war veteran who had obliterated entire species and planets across time, amongst which was his own. Plus, she got the impression that said 900-year-old alien didn’t particularly want her to. Instead, he would quietly slip out and deal with it in his own way - most likely by _not_ dealing with it, until he started to accept her little displays of comfort, like stroking his hair or wrapping her arms safely around him. Even if he didn’t talk about it. Some nights, her dreams would start to warp darker and she’d wake in a sense of dread herself, only to find him nuzzling into her in his sleep, shivering in what she could only assume was absolute _fear._

Her eyes stung, but she tried her best to keep them open and she reached for him. Her hand gently touched on his back and her fingers ran the grooves of his spine, and feeling him there, knowing he was there and safe, her eyes finally surrendered to their pain and she closed them. 

"You okay?” she whispered.

“Hmm?” She heard the covers rustle and she knew he’d turned to face her. There was a low buzz of the night market below them and she had no idea what time it was. Well, time in _her_ standards; here on Nebula 6879H she’d have no clue. “Oh, nothing, doesn’t matter.” He reached behind him to take her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips, which she felt were turned upwards in a smile. He might have kissed it, she couldn’t be sure and it would have been a very gentle one if it were. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered gently against her fingers.

She murmured in obedience, pulling her arm back down and curling her hand under her chin. She opened one eye to see him searching the floor, looking for his shoes presumably. 

She pulled herself up; her body was heavy but she was able to wrap herself around his upper arms and rest her cheek against his back. Remarkably comfortable, she thought, and she could perhaps sleep this way yet still. He breathed out shortly through his nose and she could almost see his smile as he chuckled tenderly at her gesture. She only squeezed his chest tighter, and he dropped his shoe to hold onto her forearms, rubbing his thumb against her skin. His head turned in search of her, so she shifted upwards to rest her chin on his shoulder. 

“I’m alright. Promise,” he assured.

“An’ I have no reason to doubt you when you say _“I’m alright”._ ” 

He laughed quietly. “Yeah, you’re right. But I will be.” He untangled one of her arms and she did feel his kiss that time. “I’m just gonna go get some air.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“What, and have me have to carry you in 5 minutes because you've started sleepwalking? No, ta.”

“Suit yourself,” she grinned, releasing him and kissing his back. She wasn’t sure when it had started, the habit of giving each other little kisses here and there, but she was happy he was letting her be a bit more affectionate with him. Rose had always been the kind of person to kiss her mates; she was quite physical in that respect. She imagined it came from how close she and her mum were, how they relied on each other throughout her life and showed their mutual appreciation by curling up on the sofa together or hugging each other in comfort after a dreadful day. She made a mental note to ask the Doctor if they could go and see her soon. “Come back soon though, yeah? Don’t want you wandering around with your thoughts for too long on a planet this size.”

“Course,” he chuckled.

He finished fastening his laces and slapped his knees, hoisting himself up and grabbing his jacket. She watched him do so; she liked seeing his usual suit and tie presentation more relaxed whenever they had to stop over somewhere last minute. Although he always gave the cotton t-shirt he was wearing underneath to her so she could at least take off her bra and no worry. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows, shirt untucked without tie: it was a part of him he kept only for her, not the usual face he puts on for the rest of the universe. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, stretching out her lungs. 

After a moment or two, she realised the rustling of his shoes and clothes had stopped and she thought perhaps he was looking for something quietly. She opened her eyes again and found him looking back at her with a sadness she so very rarely saw. _Very_ rarely. She sat up quickly in a mild panic and fierce protection, scrambling on her hands and knees to the end of the bed where he stood, unmoving, and she leapt up to wrap her arms around him. He dropped his jacket to the floor behind her to wrap his own arms as tightly around her as he could, burying his head into the crook of her neck. His sigh was heavy and full of a torture she could never begin to comprehend, but she tried with all her might to help relieve him of it however she could. 

“C’mon,” she whispered, scratching the back of his neck lightly. “Come back to bed.”

She didn’t let go of his hand as they travelled different paths back to their pillows: she stepping on the bed a couple of feet above him and he walking around it. She fell rather clumsily back under the covers in her fatigued state and continued yet to hold onto him as he toed off his converse and more gracefully in comparison folded back the covers to settle in besides her. They faced each other and he didn’t once flinch when she reached out to brush his hair from his forehead, his eyes fixed on her in an expression of curiosity. What she would give to just have some idea of what he was thinking when he looked at her like this. Was he thinking about her facial features, perhaps even committing them to his memory? Did he think she was out of depth in comforting him too? Maybe he was wondering what was going on in _her_ mind. Whatever the reason, she’d learnt to ignore it and not worry obsessively over it. She’d drive herself mad otherwise.

“I think I know the answer to this already, but do you want to talk about it?”

That brought a smile to his lips. “I’m ok, really. I just…" he sighed in resignation. "I just need you.”

She smiled warmly back at him, trying to control the fluttering of her heart. She focused instead on the low rumble of noise outside; the vendors chatting amongst themselves quietly as sales must have dipped in the night; the occasional tweeting of a bird, although a free one in anticipation of the upcoming sunrise or the ones encaged in the market, she couldn’t be sure; the laughter a bit further down the road on the main street. She must have been focusing on the sounds for a good few minutes, the motion of her hand falling into autopilot and she looked back at him, his expression now even more curious.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

She searched for something philosophical to say, or something that was better than “ _trying to think about how best to comfort you when it’s the one thing I don’t really know how to help you with_ ”. She ended up just sort of awkwardly summarising it. “Oh, nothing really.” Dreadful, she thought, and apparently so did he. His expression relaxed into a sort of hopeless acceptance. She shifted her stance. "Well, you, I suppose.” 

He blinked, brow pulling together once more. She couldn’t quite see him clearly enough, although her eyes had adjusted much better to the dim purple lights of the night. His eyes continued to search hers and she wondered what exactly it was he was looking for. 

“Still alright?” she whispered, relieved when his curious expression _finally_ broke, and he gave her a knowing smile. Her consciousness returned back to her hand and she finally changed motion, lightly zigzagging her nails through his hair and round the side of his head. His eyes closed to her touch and her chest pinched. Being able to relax him, even if for only a moment, _knowing_ that she could ease a pain not even he could - and he was by far the strongest and most powerful man she knew, not like she’d ever tell him that - was all she needed to keep venturing aimlessly into the unknown. 

“If you _knew_ , Rose…” he started, eyes scrunching tighter as he fought against his inner turmoil. He swallowed thickly and she kept her motions steady. Unchanging, like her heart, her will to stay by his side. He must have felt it, because he continued. “You’d never see me the same again.”

“Doctor,” she whispered gently. “I already _know_ all I need to know about you.”

He opened his eyes, but not to look at her. Instead, he gazed into the space between them. “It’s a nice sentiment, Rose, but it _does_ matter.”

She winced internally: one step out of line. Perhaps he didn’t think so, though, because he stayed where he was; she would have expected him to have rolled over and that would have been it. It only told her he _needed_ more, that he needed something and she hoped she could give it to him. 

“Ok, amendment,” she started. “I already know all I need to know to know I won’t be going anywhere.”

He looked up at her through his lashes and she shuddered. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

She stilled her hand then. “My promises are mine, not yours. I’ll be keeping them all to myself and I’ll be keeping that one forever, thank you very much.”

Once more, she cracked his expression and he smiled. It didn’t matter how many times he could give her one of his smiles, she always took more, greedily reaching to take each one. 

“Their _screams_ , Rose.” 

His voice was strained through his pain, stinging her even more in the silence that then engulfed them. She could no longer hear the outside; she suspected it was because she’d slipped into a void-space, completely lost in the unknown. 

She was still, her bones achingly so. _Move,_ she forced, not wanting to startle him by touching him, but not wanting to scare him by showing him how _nervous_ she was. She reached the back of her fingers for his jaw and he sighed hopelessly.

“Never nightmares,” he breathed, voice wavering. “Always memories.” 

She blew out the breath she’d been holding as steadily as she could. He seemed too lost in thought to notice. She continued to run her fingers against his stubble, every now and then using the pads of her fingers to gently stroke the skin behind his ear before rotating them to brush their back along his jaw again. 

“And it was all my doing,” he whispered even quieter. 

She swallowed and he heard her that time. His eyes snapped back to her and she kept steady. A smile would be too inappropriate, and a look of pity would be too patronising. A worry for him too segregating, and an understanding too effortful, so she kept her expression soft, moving her hands to his hair and gently combing it. He watched her closely, eyes softening with every change of direction of her fingers until he stilled it, taking her hand in his. He held it while he looked back at her with that the same curious expression from before. 

And then she realised. 

He was gauging her reaction, determining her limit. He’d just told her, spoken the words out loud that he’d been so afraid to. He’d pushed the limit as far as it would go and her hold never faltered. She gently pulled her hand out from under his, reclaiming it in her own and bringing his knuckles to her lips, kissing them one by one. She senses his ease, _finally_. She felt his exhale relieve hers and she shuffled into him and his arms snaked around her loosely, surrendering to _her_ hold. She turned slightly to lie more on her back and he curled into her, his head tucking under her chin. After a few moments of calm, quiet breathing from the both of them, he tightened his hold and pulled her closer, holding on to her.

“How come you’ve never asked me my name?” he asked after a while.

She lightly traced her fingers down the arm he’d wrapped over her waist. “If it’s something you’d want me to know, then you’d have told me.”

“Is that why you never ask me about the war?’

She blinked, willing her heart to not gear up. “Why? Did you want me to?”

She felt him shake his head against her shoulder. “No, no. Don’t exactly love telling people I care about all the inexcusable acts I’ve committed. No, I thought perhaps you were too afraid to hear about it.”

She sighed sadly. She leaned her cheek against his head and willed for him to feel her embrace. She _felt_ him do so somehow. She wasn’t sure what this was, why sometimes she felt like she _could_ see into him, she _could_ feel his emotions like they were her own. She suspected perhaps the TARDIS was involved in some way, but now, here so far away from her in a small b&b, she dared to hope they were linked somehow, a telepathic bond that hadn’t been fully established through an intentional breach, but one that evolved naturally from the strong emotional bond strengthening between them. 

“I never ask, because I know you never want me to. But, whether you want me to or not, you know that I’ll be here, listening to you if you ever should want to tell me. I’ll always want to help bear some of that weight for you when it becomes a bit too heavy for you to carry alone.”

He was quiet for a moment or two, thinking, before he gently touched his lips to her shoulder. “It wasn’t your war. You shouldn’t have to carry the weight of it.”

“Well, then, I’ll do my best to carry _you_.”

There was a bell in the distance, followed by a quietening below them. Rose was curious about it, but now wasn’t the time to ask him. She theorised that perhaps it was the mark of sunrise. In the silence, she heard his breathing, low and steady. She tried to match it with her own, but she found she was slowing hers down considerably and couldn’t keep up. 

“Stay with me.”

Her chest hollowed; he’d never asked her to stay because he never wanted her to feel trapped, even if by only her own sense of loyalty. He knew the answer already, she’d told him a thousand times she was going to stay with him forever. 

“Of course,” she whispered. 

He took a deep breath and it frightened her to hear how unsteady it was. She kissed the top of his head and he began to move, untangling himself from her. His arm slipped from underneath her and she shifted too, propping herself up on her elbows while he remained lying down, head on his pillow. She traced his hairline gently, smoothing back his hair again and he focused on the space above them.

And then, he started to tell her. 

She listened. Only listened: no murmurs, no expression of sympathy or understanding or shock. Some things _were_ frightening, like hearing about the children who died millions and millions of times over, a result of a war spanning across time, and hearing him talk for the first time about the Time Lords with disdain rather than in honour. And sometimes she was powerless to stop from reaching out to him, like hearing him describe the smell of Gallifrey burning and the way his own family had burned with it. She tried to imagine him, her old Doctor, fighting tirelessly and her heart ached so much that she had to pretend it was whoever he appeared as before, however many hims or hers it had been. And then, oddly enough, there were some things he explained that she just… understood. Like even _she’d_ been there, or seen it in her own dreams before. It was peculiar; perhaps he was just very vivid in his description and she had submerged herself in his words so completely. Or maybe it was that faint link again, projecting onto her. Either way, she was utterly incapable of comprehending a war of such magnitude. She tried to keep up with it as best she could without crying for him.

One of the hardest parts for him to admit to was how he’d fled. He talked about all the people he tried to save, only for their timelines to be erased and he became powerless to save _anyone_ in the end. She asked him questions wordlessly, encouraging him to expand and really retrieve the deepest memories by quietly and calmly soothing his skin. At some point she’d slipped down to his level and began tracing patterns across his arm, repetitive motions encouraging his honesty and trust her with himself, his darkest self that he believed nobody could possibly love. She’d never expected him to, of course. Oftentimes she considered that she came too soon after the war, and these words would be told to someone years after her, when he was finally ready to confront what had happened. 

When his voice began to fade and his stories came to an end, she had no idea what to say; all she wanted was to hold him tight, protecting him with everything she had. The silence that followed was one of both relief and stupefaction. His brow furrowed as he mused, allowing the memories to flood him and feeling nothing in return; too tired now to emote to them. His eyes eventually found hers and she recognised many of his emotions rolling into one: that same curiosity from before; the shame as he relived everything he’d done; his tired eyes having re-seen the faces of those who had died.

Honestly, in this moment, she’d never wanted to tell him that she loved him more. But she knew that to him those words would be a burden, and he didn’t need one more thing to come to terms with tonight. This was far too big for her, she was out of her depth in trying to comfort a man who had fought a war throughout eternity, had destroyed an incomprehensible amount of species and people, had lost everything he had. But then she realised she was lying opposite that man, and that man was the Doctor. Her best friend, and she was the one he trusted the most in the whole universe. 

Her fingers left his arm and travelled to his face, ever so gently stroking his cheek. He kept his eyes on her, his expression unchanging. She gave him a weak yet sincere and loving smile in response and his face softened, closing his eyes and drawing a long, steady breath of relief. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to cope without you, Rose. Not sure I even will.”

 _Definitely_ not like him. He never put his inevitable grief of yet to come on her shoulders because, at the end of the day, it wasn’t her fault that she was human.

“Me neither,” she joked. 

They both chuckled emptily.

“I worry about that,” she admitted. She chewed her bottom lip and he watched her do so. It made her nervous, so she took his hand, intertwining their fingers. She watched his eyes flicker down to them and, once more, wondered what he was thinking. 

“I worry about _that_.”

“You worry about me worrying about you worrying?”

He chuckled. “Something like that.”

“It’s a wonder we get anything done.”

He sighed, pulling his hand out from hers to hold her fingers, gently pressing his thumb in-between her knuckles. “You know, when people find out what I did, they flee. The Oncoming Storm. Leading the Time Lords into battle. I didn’t just wipe out entire species, I did it _over_ and _over_ and _over_.” He flinched, controlling his pain by delicately bending her phalanges, running his thumb from her knuckles to her fingertips. “I suppose I’m waiting for you to do the same.”

She scoffed.

“What?”

“I dunno how you can still say stuff like that to me.”

“Well, that’s the last time I’m being honest with you, then.”

“Na, I mean-” she gripped his hand tighter, stopping his motions. “It’s me. And it’s you. If there’s one thing I’m certain of, in the whole universe, other than the Backstreet Boys being the best thing to have come out of it, it’s you.”

He looked up at her, confused. “As in, I’m second best to the Backstreet Boys?”

“Well, ok. _Apart_ from that, then,” she grinned, and so did he. It made her heart skip with relief. “I mean, how sure I am of you. How much I trust you, and I’m sure of how much you trust me. At least, I was until this conversation.” She wiggled his hand, pinching his fingers in her criticism. “You really think I’d flee from you?”

He stuck out his chin. “I suppose you’re right. No, I wouldn’t.”

She watched him closely, blinking slowly in his almost drowse. He was tired. She thought perhaps it was because she was too that she continued to babble without much thought. “I’ve never seen you as this frightening storm, and still don't even now. Maybe it’s because you’ve only ever been kind and caring to me - well, apart from when you’re a miserable git and take the last teabag out of spite - or maybe its because I’m a tough bud and don’t scare easily. To me, you’re my _best_ mate, my equal. You’ve fucked up in the past and done some dreadful things - admittedly, probably more than others have - but so have I. But, see, that’s what mates do. They stick together, they love each other no matter what and they help tackle the other’s fuck ups and mistakes together.”

He begrudgingly chuckled. “Mine’s quite a _large_ fuck up, Rose.”

“To you, maybe. S’all relative, though, in’t it?”

He shook his head and gasped dramatically. “God, ever the martyr, aren’t I?”

“That’s what I’ve been _saying,_ ” she grinned. "Gonna have to do a lot worse than wipe out species and planets across time and space before you scare _me_ off." 

He smiled back at her and she relaxed. They shuffled closer towards each other, having spent too long too far apart. Silly really, considering they were sharing a small double bed. He slithered his arm under her as he always did so that the arch of her neck rested comfortably over it, hooking it around her, hand resting on her shoulder and she slid hers under the groove of his back. Her other hand rested on his chest, over one of his hearts and his other held onto her arm. This was, quite often, their default position; one of three they would oscillate between depending on their mood. She felt this one more equal, like they were giving each other the same level of affection and comfort. In times like this, for some reason, she always comforted in noting his physiological differences: the obvious, his extra heart; the couple of extra ribs beneath her cheek; his cooler body temperature - although, a shudder escaped her at a reminder of this now that she was wearing only his t-shirt and underwear. He felt her and reached for the blanket she’d tossed to the floor in her haste to hold him earlier and they untangled themselves so she could wrap herself in it as they usually had to, before settling back into each other once more.

“Thank you for telling me,” she mumbled eventually. 

“You’re welcome?”

She smirked. “No, I mean. I worry about you.”

“We’ve established this. Lots of worrying all round. Agree to stop worrying about each other?”

“Denied.”

“Same.”

They giggled. “But I mean it. Every time you have a nightmare you just… go. Wander off for a few hours. Pushing it to the side.”

“How’d you know I’m not writing it in my diary?”

“Because if you had a dairy you’d be moaning into _that_ about the self-checkout machine in the Tesco Express round by mum’s constantly telling you to " _place the item in the bagging area"_ when you’re determined to prove you already have instead of to _me._ ”

“Alright, fine,” he sulked. “I bottle it up. Don’t process my emotions. What else is new?”

“This here, tonight. Telling me. That’s the point of what I’m saying.”

“You’re becoming a bit too quick-witted for my liking.”

“Is that a curt way of admitting to me outsmarting you?”

She stuck out her tongue when he couldn’t think of a smart enough reply. 

“This! Here! You’re doing it now!”

“What have I done _now?!”_

“Skating around the point! Like the difficult stuff’s too hard, so you throw jokes around to distract me.” She laughed. “Sometimes I think I’m _your_ distraction, stopping you from confronting it all.”

She was hoping for some sort of flirty comeback - fishing for compliments if she were being honest. But his face dropped and something inside her turned. It was that thing again, how she could almost feel exactly the thing he was thinking. He closed his eyes and she watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down and her breath caught in her throat.

“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” she toed cautiously. He sighed heavily in response. “That I’m good a distraction.”

“Come off it, Rose. You know you’re more than a distraction to me. You’ve saved my life.”

She pulled herself away from him and he flinched. “What do you mean?”

“What do _you_ mean, “ _what do you mean?_ ”?”

“I saved your life?”

He rolled his eyes. “Rose. You know what I mean, and I’ve told you before. I mean you helped me, helped me look at life differently again. See the exciting things in it and what the universe has to offer, even in the aftermath of war.”

“And if I hadn’t?”

“Well I don’t know, let’s go find that parallel world and ask that Rose.”

“Not _me. You._ What would _you_ have done?”

“Probably watched the Earth burn alone in 500 billion years time it would have been a real bummer.”

“ _Doctor_.”

_“What?”_

She paused, waiting for his expression to shift. But it didn’t, it stayed firm. But she knew him well, well enough to know that he was working _quite_ hard to keep it so. 

“What were you doing on Earth that day we met?”

His eyes wandered behind her, searching. He shrugged. “Looking for trouble? You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I’ll ask you again: why were you on Earth that day?”

“Why are you asking me?” he huffed, frustrated.

“ _Because,_ ” she pressed. She was aware she’d unravelled the tight bond between them they’d formed only moments ago, but this was pressing. And she knew he knew she was on to him by the look on his face. Frustration, morphing into defeat, morphing into regret. 

His eyes flickered slowly back to hers and he held her gaze. “It sounds like you know why.”

“Oh my…” she choked. “ _I saved your life_.”

He kept watching her cautiously and she saw him swallow thickly. 

“Oh my god. Oh my god oh _no_. Please, Doctor _please_ don’t tell me - no. _No!”_ She leapt back, hitting the wall behind her as she did. He jumped up almost instantly, clambering towards her and she threw herself at him, wrapping herself around him so tight she thought one of them might burst from the pressure. She sobbed into his shoulder, clinging to him, protecting him. “You didn’t plan on coming _back_ , did you?”

“Shh, it’s _ok,”_ he murmured into her neck, one palm planted firmly on her back while the other rubbed it soothingly yet with enough pressure to calm her. “I’m ok now. Alright?”

“But you - ” she started, unable to finish that sentence. She ended up just gulping, paralysed under the weight of a denial she knew was in vain. He kissed her neck in a way that completely centred her and she closed her eyes, savouring it. “I just _hate_ the thought of you thinking that was your only…”

“Hey, hey listen to me,” he soothed. He released his hold on her and she more than reluctantly did the same. She barely made it to look at him before crashing back into his chest, resting her cheek against him. He chuckled sadly, resigning to holding her head against him. “That was a _long_ time ago, you know that. Things have changed.”

 _“Have they?”_ she whispered. “That’s too much for any one person to go through, and what if I _am_ just a distraction, deep down, something else to help take your mind off things and then when I’m gone…”

“You need to give yourself a bit more credit.”

She pulled away from him, losing her control and planting desperate kisses on his cheek, along his jaw and he let her, knowing this was _her_ comfort. She paused for breath and he dipped his head slightly to press his lips gently against hers for just a second, like they’ve done before when sleepily waking up in search of the other. His was sweet and deliberate, a response to hers soaked in distress. “You’re not a distraction. I’m not just going to pick up where I left off when I lose you, ok? I’d _never_ put that on you. I’ll be ok, you taught me that much. You have your promises, and I have mine. You give me your forever, and I’ll give you mine. Ok?”

She nodded somewhat reluctantly and he took her hands, falling back to the pillow and tugging her down with him. They tangled themselves in each other; arms snaked together and legs sandwiched on top of one another; the second of the three positions they regularly slept in. They watched each other, reading the other’s expression and she felt submerged in their connection. They stayed that way for a while, enjoying the near-telepathic company of the other. 

“I meant to ask," she began, "what was that bell for, earlier? It rang and everyone went quiet.”

“Hmm? Oh. It’s the point the sun hits the horizon before it starts to rise again. They’re silent for the 6 minutes the sun’s resting on the ground. To the locals, it’s 6 minutes where the planet burns to its touch, taking all the bad things with it before the new day begins and they think about it. Honour it, I suppose. Basically, a 6 minute mourning period.”

She pondered. “S’either a nice way to get rid of the troubles of the day or quite a morbid way to start the new one, depending on how you look at it, then.”

His chuckle was a sound so comforting she wanted to wrap herself in it entirely. “Glass half empty sorta thing?”

“Yeah, I guess so." She paused, contemplating it herself. "Well, how do you look at it?”

He was quiet, thinking, mulling over his answer. He sighed. “I suppose I think it doesn’t matter. Everything burns in the end.”

He saddened, losing himself in his thoughts. “C’mere,” she whispered, extracting herself to shimmy up the bed, putting her at a more comfortable angle to wrap him in her arms and comfort him. He rolled his eyes and tried to protest, but she held his gaze. “Please. Let _me_ look after _you_ for once.”

He looked at her woefully. “You look after me every day.”

“Well, then, let me do it _tonight_ too.”

He shook his head begrudgingly, an automatic response to accepting comfort. But he was trying, recently, to allow himself to be taken care of. It was hard for him for a few reasons: he didn’t believe he needed looking after; he’d spent too long looking after others that he’d become more impenetrable and resistant; he didn’t feel like he was _allowed_ to be taken care of, like he didn’t deserve it almost. But she'd asked him to let her, so he nodded, shuffling around to allow her better access to his hair, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. Just as had done once or twice before, but never really like this. She felt he’d succumbed somehow, like he’d given her the last piece of him he was holding for himself, shielding her from his darkest character. Recently, they’d been hitting these milestones and she wondered if there were any more left to reach. She stroked his hair, the light from the rising sun beginning to brighten the room a little but she guessed she might just have enough time to get some rest yet. 

***

He chuckled when he felt her hand grow still, knowing she’d fallen asleep not three minutes into asking him to let her look after him. He moved just a little until he was sure he wouldn’t be crushing her arm in any way and she’d wake up complaining about pins and needles - she’d done that a few times. Other than that, he remained in place. Of course, he wouldn’t fall asleep, but he’d have her believe he did to ease her worries. But he did silently vow to her he’d spend that time working through it all, thinking about the hardest parts of the war and allowing that pain to flood him until it became bearable. Here, in her arms - well, sort of - where he felt safe to do so. 

**Author's Note:**

> More prompts/suggestions welcome @[loupettes](https://loupettes.tumblr.com/submit)


End file.
